Favor
by journie19
Summary: Claire couldn't stop herself. She had to see him.


_AN: Wrote a one-shot that I'm really quite excited about. I love one-shots! This isn't connected to Survival or Outlast in any way (but feel free to check those out; I'd love you if you did! And if you don't check them out, I love you anyway)._

Claire debated it for a while. Yes, or no? Should she ask him, should she not?

But after trying for a week to tell herself she didn't need him, she finally relented, driving to his little house beside the lake as soon as she got off work.

Claire knew he wanted to see her, but she'd been avoiding him ever since they said they would stick together. Claire wanted to see him, talk to him, get to know him.

Love him.

Problem was, she didn't know how. It had been so long since she'd let anyone in, past the hardened career-woman exterior. Owen, however, had broken through her boundaries so easily that Claire almost couldn't believe it. He could be so _good_ for her. If Claire would let him in.

She could be good for him, too. They were like magnets, pulling towards each other unconsciously, strongest when they were together.

Claire pulled her sleek, silver Mercedes beside his house and stepped down, ignoring how her heels sunk into the ground. Claire didn't feel nervous in the slightest; Owen didn't make her anxious, like some other men she'd been involved with did. Owen calmed her down, pulled her out of the over-organized prison she sometimes locked herself in.

The sun was setting, its golden rays reflecting off the lake and shining into Claire's eyes. _Beautiful_ , she thought. Claire sometimes forgot to observe the world around her, forgot to see what a beautiful earth God had created.

Owen's motorcycle was leaning up against his porch, the paint scratched and splattered with mud. He hadn't cleaned it off yet.

That was Claire's clue. Owen wasn't okay. He was suffering just like she was, the dreams and the flashbacks and the awful, terrible guilt that this whole crisis could've been averted if she'd focused on something other than money and stockholders for just once in her career.

And Claire hadn't let herself comfort and be comforted by Owen. She'd avoided him for a week, every single day since the Indominus Rex caused pandemonium across Jurassic World. She'd gone to church the day after the chaos, something Claire hadn't done in years. She'd felt…free afterwards. Like she didn't have to worry about her park. Everything was already taken care of.

Claire's week alone had taught her something. She was strong on her own. She could handle grief. But she needed Owen so badly that she couldn't stand it anymore, and Claire hated herself for taking a week to realize it.

So she knocked on his door and he opened it in an instant, wearing the same white shirt he'd worn the last time she'd come to his house, to get his assessment on Paddock Eleven. He looked about as bad as she did, dark circles under his eyes and a hollow, tired look about his face.

"Finally," he said, pulling her in gently and shutting the door behind her. Claire felt her pulse quicken from nothing else than him touching her, his hand rough against her smooth skin.

"I need you," she said, her voice breaking. He took a step towards her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her in a way she hadn't been held in years. It dawned on Claire that for once, she didn't have to be strong. She and Owen been through hell and there was no point hiding it anymore.

"I know," he murmured, his breath warm against her neck. "I need you, too. Why did you wait so long? I've been here all week, Claire. Waiting."

Claire shrugged her shoulders, pressing her face firmly against his chest. She knew he could feel her trembling, could feel the salty tears leaking from her eyes against his shirt, but he was shaking just as badly as she was, his voice a rough whisper that rumbled deep in his chest. They were both hurting, both craving some sort of physical touch to ease their pain.

"Owen?" Claire asked, her voice muffled. He was stroking her hair softly with one hand, the other splayed across her lower back. "If I asked you a favor, would you do it?"

"Yes," he answered quietly, "I would. But Claire?"

Claire tilted her head up to look at him, her light green eyes meeting his. She saw pain there, and fear. But there was something else, something deeper and more powerful that was mirrored in her own gaze.

Love. Tentative, unsure, but love all the same.

"When I do what I'm about to do," he began, "know that I'm not using you. I care about you. I _care_ about you. I just-"

" _Need_ ," said Claire, interrupting him. "I know. That was the favor I was going to ask."

Owen blinked once, a shadow of a smile crossing his face as they reached a silent understanding before Claire gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to capture his lips with hers.

It was slow, gentle, _sweet_ at first. Owen's lips meshed with hers, his hands roaming her body, tugging at the ends of her hair, brushing her cheekbones, trailing along her spine. Claire explored him, too, feeling the muscles of his back tense under her touch, the rough scratch of his stubble against her chin, the faint flutter of his eyelashes against hers.

Eventually the kiss became less innocent and more desperate, like when they had kissed in the park with hundreds of pterosaurs flying around them. Owen tightened his arms around Claire, pressing her to his door, trapping her hard against him. She twisted her fingers in his hair, pulling gently, squirming when his low groan of approval reached her ears. She could barely breath when his tongue traced the outline of her lips, silently pleading for entrance. Claire let him in gladly, shuddering when he slipped his hand under the waistband of her skirt, gripping her hips, steadying her. Claire grasped at his shirt, wanting it out of the way, needing to feel his bare skin.

He broke away, covering her jawline in tiny kisses, grunting softly when Claire threw his shirt to the ground, enjoying the feel of his hard muscle under her hands.

 _So different_ , Claire thought, a sound breaking from her throat when he felt his hands trail up her side, stopping just below her ribcage, massaging her lightly with his thumbs. Owen was touching her, holding her like she really mattered. For the first time in her life she was kissing a man for something other than pleasure, something more than satisfaction; she cared about Owen, and it was amazing.

Owen sucked at a spot just above Claire's collarbone, just on the sensitive part of her neck, and she gasped his name in a strangled whisper before she could stop herself, clutching desperately at his back, wanting more, wanting him to keep going.

She felt him pause, felt the cool touch of his teeth against her warm, flushed skin.

"I love you, you know," he said, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Claire leaned into him, closing her eyes at the contact. Tender, sweet, but powerful and strong. Rugged. _Owen_. She hadn't flinched at his confession, like she had in the past when previous men told her they loved her. Owen was different. She was different. _They_ were different. "Always have."

She exhaled, trying to calm her wildly beating heart, pulling Owen's face up to hers so she could meet his eyes. His scent washed over her, smelling of mint and something else that Claire couldn't describe. "I'm not good at this," she breathed, pressing her forehead to his. Owen nudged her head to the side, brushing his lips across the spot he'd been sucking at earlier. Claire shivered and it reverberated through Owen, both of them groaning quietly. "I'm not good at love."

"You don't have to be," said Owen. "I know I'm not."

Claire laughed, a bit breathless.. "I love you too, Owen. I don't have to try with you. It just…works." The words flew out of her mouth easily, and she didn't regret speaking them.

Owen exhaled against her neck, swiping his tongue across the shell of Claire's ear. "Good," he said roughly, smashing his lips to hers, kissing Claire in the way she so desperately needed, all teeth and tongue and reckless abandon.

Maybe Claire had shown up at Owen's house to ask him for a favor. To ask him to hold her, kiss her. Maybe she knew she loved him when she pulled in his driveway, maybe she didn't. Either way, they loved each other and he was kissing her and she was kissing him and Claire wasn't sure if she could stop herself, wasn't sure if Owen could stop himself.

They did stop eventually, both with wild hair and flushed cheeks. "Love," Claire whispered.

Owen nodded, cupping her face with both hands. "Love."

 _AN: I hope this wasn't cheesy, but I just couldn't help myself. There's just something so indescribably good about those two together, and I really wanted to do a one-shot to get my romance writings out of me because there's a bunch of action in Outlast before we get to the kissing! Anyways, I love you all and please review!_


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